What You Deserve (Anything for Love 3)

“What should I do if I hear or see anything strange tonight?” she asked as they climbed the stairs. Being in his company made her forget all about her woes. It wasn’t until he suggested they retire early that the morbid thoughts returned.

“If you’re able, knock on my door. Call out if you fear leaving your bed.” He opened the door of her chamber and stepped aside for her to enter. “Would you like me to check your room?”

Panic flared. Her heart thumped wildly in her chest at the thought of being alone with him in her private chamber. Just a few days ago, she had sat across from him in her carriage believing herself lacking when it came to feeling any genuine emotion. Now, desire blossomed, unfurling slowly like the petals of a spring bud.

“No. I’m confident it will be fine. And you will be just across the hall.”

He raised his chin in acknowledgement. “I suppose I should wish you a peaceful night, but it would help our cause if something unusual did happen.”

She hugged the edge of the door, watched him as he walked across the landing to open his door. “I’m sure it will be a long night. I doubt either of us will sleep.”

Stepping inside his room, he turned to face her. “After all my probing questions, you’re bound to be in need of a little rest.”

It was her cue to yawn and bid him goodnight, but something kept her there.

“My head is throbbing from your relentless prying,” she said with a chuckle. “Perhaps it is only fair I get to ask a question of my own before we retire.”

The corners of his mouth twitched. “We did agree to be honest. You may ask whatever you wish.”

Why did you not want me?

What did I do to make you stop loving me?

The questions did not suddenly spring into her mind. She carried them around with her always. A permanent reminder of her inadequacy. But she would not demean herself by demanding an answer.

“You asked me something extremely personal, something intimate. I would like you to answer the same question.” She stood rigid, hoping her taut muscles would shield her from the blow she knew was coming. “Do you have a lover? Is that why you do not appear enamoured with Miss Smythe?”

Tristan stared at her; his expression wavered. One moment she saw a glint of pleasure in his bright blue eyes, the next she saw sadness and pain. A heavy tension hung in the air.

“No. I do not have a lover.”

Despite his melancholic tone, relief coursed through her. Why should she feel so elated? Why did she want to clap her hands, sing and jump for joy?

She scrambled about in her mind, trying to find the right words to reflect her surprise without revealing anything more. But Tristan took a step back.

“I do not have a lover,” he repeated as he closed the door slowly. “There has never been anyone other than you.”

Chapter 8

Tristan pressed his back against the bedchamber door and closed his eyes.

Bloody hell!

He exhaled deeply. The long weary sound drifted through the room until all the air had left his lungs.

Of all the things he could have said, the declaration proved that he had not been able to move forward with his life. Revealing his secret roused an uncomfortable sense of vulnerability that did not sit well with him. Muttered curses continued to fall from his lips.

Whilst perhaps appearing rude, his sudden retreat was merely a defensive manoeuvre.

Should he open the door and offer an explanation? Should he demand she put him out of his misery, tell him what he had done to force her into the arms of another man?

Pushing away from the door, he raked his hand through his hair. One thing was certain. He could not go on pretending the past didn’t matter. Although bitterness lingered deep within, he still wanted her. More than ever.

God, he was a damn fool.

Perhaps Chandler was right. A discreet liaison would serve his purpose. Burying himself inside Isabella’s tempting body would help him to banish the demons of the past. But she had rejected him once before. Why would she want him now?

Feeling a desperate urge to find a distraction from his conflicting thoughts, he scanned the dimly lit room. From the drapes to the bed hangings, the various shades of blue created a cold, detached feeling, one so opposed to the fiery heat coursing through his veins when he thought of the tempting lady just across the hall.